


Comfort in These Bones

by thedropoutandthejunkie (elenajames)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt Ezekiel | Gadreel, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 07:45:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8740924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/thedropoutandthejunkie
Summary: Gadreel and Sam are both damaged after the fall, and they take their healing and comfort in one another.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sammycolt24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammycolt24/gifts).



Sam Winchester’s soul is damaged, his body even moreso. Life flickers weakly in his flesh, but his soul burns bright despite its rips and tatters. Gadreel’s grace breathes life into failing organs, and wraps around Sam’s soul holding it close as he puts the young man to sleep.

 

_They’re in a library, vast and handsome. Sam - healthy and whole - is surrounded by books and papers at one of the long tables as Gadreel descends the steps. Only when he hits the bottom does the hunter look up._

 

_“Who are you?” He’s alarmed, standing and trying to back away, eyes darting as he looks for a weapon and finding none at hand._

 

_“I am  . . . Gadreel. I am here to help you, Sam. You are quite ill.” The angel doesn’t know what prompts him to tell the truth, to give his real name to the younger man, but he does and feels better for it._

 

_“I’m not, I-”_

 

_“You are. You are asleep, right now, Sam, so that your body may rest. The trials nearly took your life; I am here to help give it back.”_

 

_Stunned hazel eyes meet Gadreel’s, and there’s a tiny twist of pain in Sam’s expression when he speaks next. “This is a dream. You - Dean asked me to say yes. You tricked me.”_

 

_“Your brother did not think you would agree, not even to save your own life. I only wish to help, Sam. You and your brother have done much for the world, and received very little in return. This is the least I can do for you.”_

 

_It’s the truth, and Sam, with his soul in direct contact with Gadreel’s grace, can feel it, along with the hint of mistruth behind it. Gadreel raises one hand, begging to be allowed to continue to speak, and sighing when Sam gives a curt nod._

 

_“I am also not well, Sam. My brothers and sisters and I were flung from heaven. My grace is damaged, my wings also. Being within you and near a soul so strong and good will heal me as much as contact with my grace will heal you. That is the full truth.”_

 

_Sam is quiet for few long moments. “If I revoke my consent, then . . .”_

 

_“Then I will leave. Not all of us are like Lucifer, Sam Winchester. We have rules to obey. Orders to follow. If you ask me to leave, then I will. For now, I ask that you give me time.”_

 

* * *

 

Living in Sam is a curious thing. His brother watches him (them) like a hawk, wary of any sniffle, any falter in Sam’s step. Gadreel spends most of his days curled up at the back of Sam’s mind, watching but not interfering as the hunter goes about his life. Thoughts flash by - loneliness, regret, love, anger, hope - intense and beautiful in their own way. That which comes to bother Gadreel the most is the sense of unworthiness woven throughout Sam’s emotions; it’s one that rings too true with his own feelings about himself.

 

 _“Your brother cares deeply for you,”_ Gadreel murmurs to Sam one night as the Impala rolls down a darkened highway. _“Not all his mistakes are . . . understandable. Not all his treatment of you. You are not wrong to be angry and not wrong to love him still, to want him to love you in return.”_

 

Sam sighs internally, emotions flickering through a spectrum before settling on a deep grey. _“I’ve made mistakes, too. Mostly unforgivable. It’s a miracle he can stand to be around me. I don’t get to be angry when I’m the one who-”  Another sigh and Sam goes silent, frustrated and upset._

 

_“Not a miracle. You are not unbearable, Sam, not intolerable. You deserve apology and understanding, help rather than criticism. You are human, as is he, and I think he’s begun to see that he cannot hold you on a pedestal he does not stand upon himself.”_

 

 _“You’re a real lifecoach, Gad.”_ Sarcasm, but there’s a tiny flame of hope sparking up, one that Gadreel continues to nurture with Dean’s help. It isn’t easy to get the brothers to talk, but every stilted conversation settles some of the unrest within both of them, and makes Gadreel hum with pleasure.

 

* * *

 

Sam’s deeper sleeps take place in his bedroom, even his mind too tired to wander far from the comfort of his mattress. Somehow, his subconscious begins to leave space in that bed for Gadreel as well. They start out above the blankets, resting on their backs and talking until Sam drifts off into a true dream or his alarm drags them back into the reality of the bunker. Over time, Gadreel finds himself curling closer to the other man until he’s got an armful of hunter cradled along his side.

 

“How are your wings?” Sam questions sleepily.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Your wings. You said they were damaged in the fall. How are they?”

 

“They are healing. It will take time,” Gadreel answers carefully, but Sam pushes himself up on one elbow, anyway, using the slight height advantage to stare worryingly down at the angel.

 

“Can - is there a way for me to see?”

 

“Sam. They are not-”

 

“Gadreel. Please?”

 

Closing his eyes, Gadreel wills his wings into existence. There’s a tiny gasp from Sam, and the angel shakes as he forces himself to not hide the battered appendages away. Gentle fingers touch baby feathers, brushing along one wingbone in a way that makes Gadreel shiver.

 

“You’re hurt. Is - is it bad?” Sam’s hushed, pained, and that’s enough to get Gadreel to look up at him, worried eyes dipping down to meet his own.

 

“It’s tolerable. Without my full grace, I . . . I may never fly again. But they will heal.”

 

There are burned patches and broken feathers, ugly scabs and scars littered among the growing down. Sam touches each reverently, carefully, mouth pinched tight.

 

“You’re going to show me when we’re awake. I could at least put some salve on these, get rid of some of the dead feathers. It would help them heal.”

 

“Yes, Sam,” Gadreel whispers back. He leaves his wings out at Sam’s request, wrapping the hunter up in them. They come to in their physical body like that, large tawny wings cocooned around them, shutting out the dim light of the room. Sam dozes for a while, trailing his fingers through the now-real feathers in a hypnotic, slow motion.

 

“They’re beautiful,” he murmurs right before he falls back to sleep. Gadreel steps forward in their shared mind, taking full control as Sam’s mind drifts down into a dream. He fingers one new feather thoughtfully, heart aching just a little as the memory of Sam’s love for him replays itself in his mind.


End file.
